


Two Protégés

by diningwithpsychopaths



Category: Hannibal (TV) RPF, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Clarice is a BAMF, I really wanted Will in the book Hannibal, and Will wishes he were over Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diningwithpsychopaths/pseuds/diningwithpsychopaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarice is compiling information about who Hannibal Lecter's was before his incarceration in order to track him down, which means she must speak with anyone who may have had a close or intimate relationship with Lecter. Of course Will Graham is number one on her list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Protégés

Clarice walked through the tall grass bent by the ocean breeze from a few miles away. The property was scattered with various boat parts, mostly engines, and the smell of grease and dog was prominent. None of this meant anything to her though as she took confident strides up to the wooden porch of a small house that looked weather beat and ready to give up and collapse. 

The porch steps creaked beneath her good shoes and she hoped that it was stable enough not to give under her. She knocked three times at the door, her knuckles not lingering on any of the knocks. There was no response as she waited for a good minute except for barking and so she knocked again, this time harder, hoping that it might wake up the inhabitant of the sad house should he be sleeping. It seemed to work as she could soon hear the sound of bottles falling onto the floor and a low oath. Uneven footsteps made their way to the door and Clarice took a step back, her face cool and controlled, ready for the face of Mr. Crawford's former protege. 

When the door opened Will Graham's right eye squinted into the soft afternoon sun and his silently deformed mouth frowned. His face had healed some since his run in with the Red Dragon, no longer the Picasso Clarice had heard it described as so many years ago. It sounded like there were several dogs crowded around him trying to sniff her. Clarice did not flinch but she made no move to extend her hand either.

“Good afternoon, are you Will Graham?”

“Who's asking?” he asked in a scratchy voice that must have been pleasant when it was used regularly and not ailed by too much alcohol. 

“I'm Special Agent Clarice Starling, Mr. Graham.”

Graham let out dry chuckle. “I've heard about you, see you in the papers and on the news too. You're Hannibal's new toy.” Clarice resisted the urge to frown at him and controlled her face to stay as passive as possible. “What do you want from me; tips on how to capture him? Sorry Starling but that was just dumb luck no matter what they tell you.”

“I am here to inquire about any contact you may have had with Dr. Lecter and also about what he was like when you knew him.”

“Why?”

“Because it might be useful in capturing him.”

Graham sighed and moved aside to allow her into his house. “I doubt it but sure, whatever. Did Jack send you?”

“No. Mr. Crawford doesn't know I'm here.”

“Hmmmm.”

The inside of Graham's house was dirty and smelt of stale alcohol, dog, and bad aftershave. When Clarice stepped inside five dogs ambushed her, though none of them tried to jump on her, and they sniffed her eagerly, quickly deciding that she wasn't a threat to their master. The room was badly lit as curtains lazily drawn together to keep out any sunlight but Graham reached over a dusty couch to pull them back to let some in, the dust motes, disturbed in the process, excitedly dancing in the air. Empty and half empty bottles of Jack Daniels littered the floor and there was even some broken glass in the shadow of an ugly arm chair that was positioned directly in front of the door.

“So, Special Agent Clarice Starling, what do you want to know?”

Clarice did not sit down and Graham did not offer her a seat so they both remained standing while dust floated around them. She was glad that he got straight to the point, no inquiries about her career or the way that the media painted her. It must have been out of a mutual respect, that or he was just eager to get rid of her. The way he said her name bothered her a little bit though, as if he were both mocking her and slightly jealous, though of what she did not care to know.

“When you worked with Dr. Lecter what sort of things did he enjoy?”

Graham raised an eyebrow. “People.”

Clarice resisted narrowing her eyes at Graham, she should have expected that.

“Allow me to rephrase the question. What sort of things besides the obvious cannibalism did Lecter enjoy?”

“Don't you already know this?”

“I was hoping for some insight from someone who knew him intimately.”

Graham ground his teeth at that and Clarice almost regretted it, but if he wanted to be difficult she was not going to spare him the truth.

“He liked classy stuff, like the opera, vintage wine, classical music, well tailored suits.” Graham's eyes got a bit glassy, his gaze wandering further from Clarice's. “He was always so perfectly dressed, perfectly put together with his slicked back hair and people mask. He seemed so human.”

“Do you know anything specific about these tastes?”

“One of his suits was a Valentino,” Graham offered, his eyes closed as if remembering something bitter sweet. Clarice cleared her throat and Graham slowly opened his eyes and let out a pained sigh.

“Anything else special agent?”

“I understand that Dr. Lecter has sent you mail in the past, Christmas cards and the occasional birthday card.”

“Yes.”

“Have you received anything from him recently, anything since he escaped seven years ago.”

“Sure. He still insists on sending me better cologne. I tried downing the first bottle but Dr. Bloom found me and...” Graham trailed off and gave Starling a bitter look. “Do you think maybe he's sending cryptic messages in the perfume?”

Clarice did not laugh and neither did Graham. They stared at one another, neither backing down. Clarice had heard that Graham disliked eye-contact but it didn't look like he was trying to empathize with her, just figure something out, but it didn't last more than five seconds and then Graham sighed and ran a hand along the botched faded scars of his left cheek. “Do you want to look at them? They're all underneath my bathroom sink.”

“No thank you Mr. Graham. Did Dr. Lecter send you any notes along with the cologne?”

“Yes.”

Clarice narrowed her eyebrows slightly. “May I see them?”

“No, I burned them.”

Clarice gave a small frown as she observed the way he looked into the far off corner of the room where the least amount of light was. He was lying to her and she wanted to push him but she figured that he probably wouldn't budge. The rest of the world might think Graham broken but Clarice could still see a spark of defiance in him that she doubted would ever die no matter how many times someone cut him up. 

“Have you had physical contact with Dr. Lecter since he escaped.”

Graham flinched slightly, his hand unconsciously going to his abdomen where Clarice knew his scar from Lecter was. “No, and he won't be coming to see me. I no longer amuse him.” His voice was pained and bitter and when he looked back in her general direction his good eye was narrowed and his slit even smaller.

“I've already been asked all of this.”

“I just needed to make sure. Files get lost and information botched.”

Graham snorted and walked over to his front door. Their meeting was over but Clarice wasn't done.

“Did you know he was in Italy?”

“That's what the papers say.”

“I meant before the fiasco in Florence.”

Graham shook his head, his grip on the open door tightening and when he spoke it sounded like venom. “If you're implying that I would withhold information that might put that monster back in prison or keep him from the chair don't. I want him caught more than any of you. Now goodbye Special Agent Clarice Starling and good luck with your monster hunt but don't get too disappointed when you can't catch him.”

“Thank you for your time Mr. Graham.”

Clarice walked past Graham and when she was next to him she inhaled deeper than usual, just to see if he smelled like something Lecter would prefer, but she was disappointed to find his aftershave cheap and stale along with alcohol and dog. The door shut behind Clarice and when she was halfway through the field to her car she glanced back one more time at the desolate place and wondered if Graham was indeed a dead end or not.


End file.
